


then is heard no more

by Bether



Category: E.R.
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canon Related, Episode Re-Write, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-23
Updated: 2009-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bether/pseuds/Bether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>slightly AU Season 14 || Benton isn't the only visitor Carter has while he's holed up in the hospital waiting on a kidney.</p><p>The (brief) return of Dr. Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	then is heard no more

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the episode _Old Times_ and, as such, it is set in slightly-AU territory around that time in Season 14. Most of the glaring errors are minor things like what hospital Carter is in, how his reunion with Benton went and the addition of Jing-Mei into the mix (which was sort of the point of the story in the first place). The title's from a favorite line of mine in Shakespeare's _MacBeth_: "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets it's hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more." Cheers.
> 
> **Disclaimer: **Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of NBC (or whoever owns the rights to ER). I am simply borrowing them for my purposes. Please don't sue.

It's been the better part of five years since Jing-Mei Chen stepped through the doors of Chicago's County General hospital. It only figures that when she finally returns to the place she learned to be a doctor, she does it with the same brazen attitude she carried the first time she returned after a long absence.

Passing the threshold, she stalls momentarily. All the faces she doesn't recognize stun her—because it's so different but still the same, too. That's the emergency room, though; always changing, always in flux. And, with that thought, she picks up her pace again.

Spotting a familiar face, she marches straight to him. "Jerry," is her only greeting, face tight and serious. This isn't a time for pleasantries. She's on a mission—one that predicates everything, even politeness.

The affable admit attendant gapes at her for a moment, obviously surprised by her sudden appearance, before a familiar smile falls into place. "Dr. Chen, what brings you back to County?" he inquires in his typical friendly fashion.

She rolls her eyes. As if they both don't already know. "Jerry, where's Carter?"

His smile is instantly replaced by a worried expression, hidden partially by his ridiculous beard. "He's been given a room in the ICU."

With a nod, Jing-Mei is about to make the short walk upstairs but pauses. She has always been determined and headstrong but this—this isn't something she can just plow through, no matter how much she may want to. "How is he, Jerry?" she asks, concern leaking into her tone.

Jerry meets her gaze evenly and she doesn't miss the sadness in his eyes. "Unless he gets a kidney, he hasn't got long." He shrugs, shoulders hunched. "Maybe a few weeks if he's lucky."

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she nods again. "Thanks, Jerry," she say, a ghost of a smile on her face. "And—it's good to see you." Because it is and she probably owes him the courtesy of saying so. She turns on her heal, then, and marches toward the elevators. She still has her mission, after all.

* * *

Cowardly, that's how Jing-Mei feels. She's been standing outside the room belonging to Dr. John Truman Carter III for a good ten minutes and is no closer to entering than when the nurse pointed it out to her upon her arrival.

It's ironic, she thinks. She spent the entire train ride from Cleveland psyching up for this moment and now that she's arrived, she's stuck in her head. Second-guessing herself and what she's even doing there. Because it's John. (She wouldn't have come for anyone else. Except for Greg and she really missed the boat with that one. But now isn't the time for thinking about _that_.)

The problem is, she still doesn't know what to say. He's always had such an easy way about him (not like her at all) and now… now they're different—older, maybe wiser if they're lucky—but what does that really mean? She has no idea. Just like with her internship at County, she's starting to realize that all the prepping the world isn't ever going to mean she's ready.

Biting her lip, she takes a deep breath and pushes her way into the room. John is there, of course, lying in the ridiculously white bed and looking paler than she ever remembers him being. Christ, he looks worse than when he was a med addicted junkie.

And just like that, reality crashes down around Jing-Mei. She doesn't move or speak, her eyes locked on his prone figure.

She didn't know how long she stands there before John's eyes flutter open. When they do, though, she can practically feel time starting again. Despite the obvious pain he's in, he smiles at her. "Deb," he says, knowing she hates the nickname and loves the familiarity, "long time no see."

"John," she replies, mouth dry and eyes drier, "it's been a while." She tries to smile but it's pained, and she knows it. There's a moment of (not entirely comfortable) silence between them as their eyes meet and she looks away first. Taking a breath, she dives right in. "You could've called." She looks at him again, hurt. "I would've come."

John's smiling, though. It's sort of bittersweet, she thinks, and she doesn't like that. It feels too much like he's resigned—like he's given up. "I know," he tells her and she believes him. "Got a long line of people who probably would've come if I called." And she knows who he means—Peter, Susan, Kerry, Abby and Anna to name a few. They weren't just co-workers here, they were a _family_.

Family. It still hurts her to think. Because it reminds her of all she lost—and all she gave up. She ignores those feelings and takes his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the edges of tape holding a needle in place. "They _would_," she assures him. And she _is _sure. She's there, after all, and she's always considered herself tenaciously stubborn.

He nods, though she isn't sure if he's dismissing her or agreeing. "But after everything with Mark—" here, she winces a little, "I didn't want to put them through that again." He catches her eye and gives her hand a weak squeeze. "I don't want you to have to—"

"You're going to be fine, John," she interrupts, mostly because it feels like the right thing to say. She knows his prospects aren't quite end stage yet but they also aren't anything to be overly optimistic about, either. Still, he didn't survive everything he's survived over the years just to die now. He's got many more years ahead of him and far too much potential to be taken now. It's just fact—it _has_ to be.

He doesn't respond to that. Instead, he pushes himself up on one elbow and gives her a full once over. His expression is shrewd and she knows what's coming next. "Deb, how'd you—?"

Again, she doesn't let him finish. "Does it really matter?" she asks him, eyebrows raising high with the question. She moves her hand from his grasp to his shoulder. "You were there for me more times than I can count," she continues, eyes glittering just a little with the memories; "let me be here for you this time." She can see he wants to object and she squeezes his shoulder. "_Please_, John. Let me do this."

This is important to her. Throughout her pregnancy and with her father, he was there. Her rock. Even when she quit, his memory kept her grounded. And, despite what she likes to believe about her abilities, she's never felt like she's fully reciprocated. But this time—this time, she's going to do her damnedest to hold strong. To be his rock for a change.

He deserves at least that much. He deserves the support of those who care about him.

* * *

Jing-Mei isn't the least bit surprised to see Peter Benton when she returns from one of her numerous coffee runs. She's never been particularly close to the surgeon, but she acutely remembers the way Peter handled himself when John was losing to his addiction. More than that, though, she remembers the way John looked at Peter that night. It's something that always stuck with her.

"Dr. Benton," she says, alerting him to her presence. Her voice is low so as not to wake John but it carries over the beeping of the various machines in the room. She can't think of how to continue, so she just leaves it there.

Peter has that arrogant amused expression on his face and it's enough to remind her what she _hasn't_ missed about him. "Chen," he returns easily. "Thought you quit this place."

Nodding absently, she moves closer to John. Her eyes sometimes play tricks and she wants to be sure everything is as well as it can be. "I did. I'm here for John." Her gaze flicks over to Peter and she gives him a pointed look. "Just like you."

It's the truth and he doesn't argue with it. "Haleh call you, too?" he questions instead, obviously curious.

"Chuny, actually," she replies. She still isn't sure how the nurse knew where to find her (maybe Greg's brother?), but she doesn't care. She's just grateful she did.

Since her answer doesn't require a response, they lapse into silence. They're an unlikely pair but both have their attention trained on the sleeping Carter heir, so the oddness is lost on them.

After a spell, Peter stands and stretches. "Think I'll get some coffee," he comments off-handedly. "You need a refill?" She's almost surprised by the courtesy—almost but not quite. (Doctor's bedside manner and all that.)

His tone has her smiling a little. "No, thank you," she replies because 1) she still has half a cup left, 2) it tastes as stale and disgusting as when she worked there, and 3) if she has any more caffeine, she'll probably have to run laps around the hospital later. It's still a nice gesture, though, and she thinks more than his hair cut and her job title have changed.

Which, actually, worries her a little. What does this change mean for John? Could he be in more danger than she originally thought? She doesn't think so—she's still a doctor in her own right, after all, capable of reading his charts and diagnosing his symptoms—but there's always the chance…

No, no. She's not thinking that way. This is only temporary until John finds his donor. He's her rock and she still needs him, even if it's only to know that he's out there holding strong. She'll do it for the time being (she's always been good at picking up his slack), but she won't reconcile herself to having to hold up without him. Not yet.

Not ever if she has her way.

* * *

It's a full three days before Jing-Mei finally confronts Peter about his continued presence. It's not that she thinks he has any ulterior motives—quite the opposite, really—but John's condition is in steady (if slow) decline and she refuses to just stand by for any longer. That's not the way she's built. It's not how she operates. Period.

"What the hell are you doing here, Peter?" she asks him outside of John's room as he returns from a coffee refill.

He's obviously not expecting her ambush because he looks torn between confusion and irritation by it. "What are you talking about, Chen?" he responds brusquely, irritation clearly winning the battle.

She points toward the room, eyes angry slits. "You've been here for three days!" Her hands move to her hips. "When are you going to do something already?"

Now he looks more confused than frustrated. "Do?" he repeats, brows furrowed. "What, you think I'm just sitting on a kidney or something?"

Rolling her eyes, she growls a little in frustration. "Of course not," she snaps.

Peter crosses his arms, one brow raised in a way that again reminds her why she loathed being his intern. Arrogant ass. "Then what is it?"

There's a pregnant pause between them until she suddenly throws her hands up in the air. "I don't know!" she cries finally and her expression cracks. She holds her ground, though, refusing to be cowed. "But you have to fix him, Peter."

His face softens and he puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. It's then that she realizes she's crying. "It doesn't work that way, Jing-Mei," he tells her, much calmer than he has any right to be. "You know that."

She shrugs off his hand and crosses her arms, trying to be angry again. Anger is safe. "I don't know that," she says, shaking her head a bit wildly. "Don't tell me I know that!"

"Jing-Mei…"

"Damn it, Peter, you save him!" she cries suddenly, interrupting whatever he'd been planning to say to placate her. She shoves his shoulder, her own shaking with repressed sobs. "You have to!"

His hands are on his head and he looks almost as distressed as she feels. "I don't know if I can!" he shouts back, a pained expression on his face.

She can tell it hurts him to admit it, but she doesn't care. "You have to, Peter," she pleads, visibly deflating. Her eyes are wide and filled with an innocence she doesn't normally possess. "I know you; that's what you do for him—what you've _always _done!"

There's an apology written all over his face but he doesn't say the words. (Not his style.) "He's not my student anymore, Jing-Mei," he says instead, voice tight with unexpressed emotions. He sighs, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "And there isn't anything anyone can do without a kidney."

"I know," she admits quietly, gaze dropping to the floor.

They're both silent, lost in thought, until she breaks it with a sniffle. A _loud_ sniffle.

Eyes shining, she turns to him again. "I'm just… it's so…" She bites her lip, then the bullet. "I don't know what I'd do without him." And it's true. Because she needs him—period.

Peter pulls her into a hug, uncharacteristic but comforting. "Me either," he murmurs above her head.

A few tears leak out and she sniffles again, wiping her cheeks behind his back. "Yeah." They stay like that for longer than either will admit later.

* * *

If there's one thing people know about Jing-Mei, it's her dedication to the job. She's always tried for first (because second place is the first loser). And, even though she doesn't have anything to prove to anyone anymore (except herself, of course), she's still driven. So driven, in fact, that she's in line to be Chief of Medicine at her hospital.

It's not decided yet, though, and she knows it will be (in a way she does _not_ want) if she stays in Chicago too much longer. She's torn between her loyalty to John and the aspirations she has in the life she's built for herself since leaving. In the end, it's really no contest. She sits beside John and knows she'll never begrudge him for her choice to stay until they find a kidney. (Because they _will_, damn it.)

But he's perceptive—always has been. And he doesn't miss the terse conversations she has about PTO and her career just outside his room. Eventually he confronts her and insists she go back home. She tries to convince him it's no big deal—that she _wants_ to stay and he shouldn't be alone, anyway—but he won't hear it. He has rebuttals for all her arguments.

And suddenly she's in his room with her tiny suitcase and a train ticket back to her life, not sure what to say. Not good-bye—that's too final. "It's been good to see you," is what she settles on eventually, kissing his cheek gently and giving his hand a squeeze. She smiles teasingly and adds, "Maybe next time you'll even get out of bed."

"I'll do my best," he promises and she believes him. He gives her a squeeze back and they share a smile.

Then she turns to Peter, giving him a quick (if awkward) hug. "Look after him," she instructs sternly, tossing a teasing look at John. She sobers quickly, meeting the surgeon's gaze. "And let me know…" she trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence. She can only think of negative ways to go from there and that's not the attitude she wants to leave with.

Peter places a hand on her shoulder and smiles. "I'll keep you updated."

Visibly relieved, Jing-Mei nods. "Thank you." She picks up her bag and shrugs. "I guess I better get going. I'll call you tonight, John, okay?" Partly to let him know she's arrived home safely and partly because she still feels horribly guilty for leaving.

He's smiling from his bed and raises a hand in a wave. "Sounds good." She's still lingering, though, so he makes a shooing motion. "Go on, Deb, or you'll miss you're train." She moves to the door but hesitates again. "I'll see you soon," he adds for assurance.

She smiles, then, and nods. "See you soon," she replies as she finally leaves the room. And, for the first time since she arrived, she believes it. It may not be a kidney but it's enough to get her home.


End file.
